Hide And Seek
by ehmersonn
Summary: Clara entices the 12th Doctor to play a game of 'Hide and Seek' aboard the TARDIS, and discovers enchantments and secrets she just may come to regret. Post 2014 Christmas Special
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** _I do not own any of these characters. Doctor Who is the property of the BBC. No profit is derived from this work, it is for entertainment and mental agreement between likeminded fans only._

 **AUTHOR'S NOTES:** This is my first fanfic post! I'm still trying to get a hold of the basics, but I do intend to write more, so this is very much a kind of Act 1 while I get my thoughts in line.

If you've enjoyed - or hated - this, a review on what is okay or could be done better is always helpful.

Thank you for reading!

* * *

CHAPTER ONE:

He hadn't seen her for two days now. Not that he particularly minded, after all, what does he have to hide from the Impossible Girl, who had traced his own history and saved him a hundred times over? – _Apart from everything, you mean-_

 _But she barely remembers anything!_

It had taken almost a whole second before he began arguing with himself, muttering under his breath as he fiddled with knobs and switches at the TARDIS console aimlessly.

Clara had asked if she could get to know the TARDIS, and the request seemed simple enough. So he unthinkingly allowed her to traverse the labyrinth alone, led only by her near morbid sense of curiosity. Hunching over the console, he smiled at the floor.

She wasn't so different from him.

Perhaps a touch more stubborn from time to time, but she wore her heart on her sleeve, a quality he'd long since needed to outgrow.

When she had asked him, he had, of course, been too busy studying an obscure collection of cutlery he'd found locked away in some dirty trunk in a half hearted archive room. Which was possibly just a cupboard with better intentions.

It would be perfectly safe for her. To avoid encountering any decrepit Clara doppelgangers like they'd encountered during his last regeneration, he'd previously embedded countermeasures into the TARDIS mainframe. Besides, he could always monitor her whereabouts with some gadget on the console, and if not, he could always just throw some sort of device together.

But even with a machine that could travel through time and space, and a brain as large as his, the Doctor still felt a sliver of concern for Clara's absence.

Maybe it wasn't even concern, but a sense of boredom without her.

Sure enough, the floor of the console room was littered with several solved Rubik's cubes, a fish tank full of Vaseline, innumerable old books, a sequined taxidermy parrot, 2 unfinished sandwiches, and the walking stick stolen from the Emperor of Parmesan. The Doctor leaned back into his chair, and kicked his thin legs out to rest on the railings. He sighed into his leathered hands, reaching up to scratch at his hairline as he arched his neck backward.

In the dim light, the Doctor could see something violently yellow hovering above him. His legs swung beneath the chair as he swivelled around, finding a yellow sticky note pasted onto the bookshelf behind him.

He pressed the note with two fingers as his eyes focused. His breathing agitated slightly when he recognised Clara's handwriting, and read aloud to his empty audience:

"HIDE AND SEEK. COME FIND ME, DOCTOR"

* * *

Snug in a sizeable corner of her living room, the TARDIS had recently become another ornamental addition to Clara's décor. It was abnormal for the Doctor to stay in one place for so long, but after the year she'd had, and last Christmas, she was enjoying the new laziness of the Doctor during the school holiday break.

He'd occasionally appear in her kitchen and hand her a cup of tea or a biscuit. And sometimes he'd stay for dinner, trawling out a roast chicken having claimed he had cooked it himself. He wouldn't always necessarily be there at an ideal time, but she supposed, the main factor was that he was there.

Clara smiled to herself as she approached the TARDIS. She admired her own audacity to challenge the Doctor, whilst simultaneously providing herself an opportunity to nose around the avenues of the TARDIS. In truth, Clara wanted to feel as at home in the TARDIS as the Doctor seemed to be in her apartment.

The note was loosely sticking to her index finger, and she wiggled it a little with quiet glee as she folded her arms casually behind her back. She mustered a deep breath to suppress her smile, and unlocked the TARDIS door.

Stepping inside, she glanced around at a vacant console room.

"Doctor?"

"Yeah, Clara, I'm in here – now have you ever seen such an exquisite spoon? Its shape is actually an imprint of the first recorded meteor crater in your solar system. It's not exactly to scale but no amount of ice cream could fill the real thing.

See, now this is the kind of information that you should be teaching in school!"

As he waved the spoon, The Doctor could practically hear Clara's expression of mixed bewilderment and disinterest as she replied with an unconvincing "Sure".

His head popped out from behind a doorframe to quip back at her, but Blackpool got the better of him when she interrupted him first.

"Side-tracking from the spoons for a minute, I was thinking… You know, Doctor, maybe it'd be a good idea if I had a look around the TARDIS, you know, uh, try to bond with it." Clara said, awkwardly patting the console with her free hand.

"Her!" he called back, raising his eyebrows with a twinge of defensive frustration.

Clara sighed as the Doctor continued, stepping out of the doorway and returning to his collection of cutlery.

"Y'know, with that attitude Clara, it's probably a good idea if the two of you could make amends!"

Now thankful that he couldn't see her, Clara's face furrowed – _amends? I haven't even done anything to it – agh. Her!_

She tiptoed over to the Doctor's brown leather armchair and stuck her note above it, sure that he'd see it eventually, though gladly not immediately, given his current cutlery fetish.

"Well, I guess I'll be off then…" she paused, returning to the centre of the console.

"Doctor - Aren't you going to wish me luck?"

From the doorway, the Doctor's face reappeared as she turned to face him.

"Sure", he replied, with a smug smile tugging at his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO:

 _If I remember correctly, the guest bedroom… should be right over… here._

Clara had only stayed overnight once or twice aboard the TARDIS. Each time, the Doctor had ushered her to a room at the point when she was barely coherent between yawning and half-heartedly insisting she would sleep at home.

In fact, it was almost too tempting to just stay there forever. Or at the very least, too tempting to bring an overnight bag so she could smuggle something back to her apartment.

The guest bedroom, as the Doctor had explained, operated on consciousness, tailoring the environment as you slept to suit your exact needs. Pillows would murmur white noise and symphonies to her when the room became too quiet, and the single silk sheet would adjust to the optimum temperature for a good night's sleep.

Today the walls were smooth and grey, the bed neatly made with blue-black silk linens and plush, toe-wriggling creamy carpet beneath Clara's feet. A cup of hot coffee awaited her on the bedside table as Clara mouthed an appreciative 'thank you' to the room. She threw herself onto the bed, and crushed her head against the pillows. Faintly glowing above her were hundreds of copper tulips, twinkling like incandescent starlight.

"Oh, I could definitely live here." Clara breathed to herself as she snuggled into the mattress and reached out for her cup of coffee. As she pawed at the bedside table, Clara couldn't feel the mug. Her fingers instead brushed something flat and cool where the coffee should have been. Raising her head an inch, she spied a leather bound notebook and pen that she was sure hadn't been there before.

Now sitting upright, Clara edged toward the bedside table to inspect the notebook. It was simple, small and portable. Fingering the pages, the paper was a little off colour, but entirely blank. The cover was dull, but hardly worn and again unmarked. The little book looked remarkably similar to a gift she was given once as a child, where she had once stockpiled diary entries, pasted feathers and tickets, and drawn simple maps during holidays and school trips.

She exhaled knowingly, realising the TARDIS had probably provided this to help Clara keep track of her movements, to prevent her from getting lost.

"Of course you did this. Because you think of everything, don't you?" Clara asked rhetorically.

* * *

Leaning against the door of the guest bedroom, Clara scribbled in the leather notebook.

From the console room, go down the stairs that lead to the narrow hallway. Hallway continues to a flight of stairs heading downward. At base of stairs, head left to first wooden door with 3 round time-lord things – guest bedroom.

"Now to somewhere…" she swivelled, and caught sight of a wall covered in a pattern of luminous circles. Clara's eyes twinkled as a broad grin swept over her face.

"…New."

From guest bedroom, face the wall with lights and walk toward it.

Clara was careful to keep the directions simple, but The Doctor would find her anyway because he'd always come back for her. Well, almost always.

Leads to another corridor.

 _The notebook is simply insurance,_ Clara reassured herself. _He's as much an idiot as he is a genius. Maybe he'll forget, or he'll get distracted…_

Turn left.

"It's just a silly game anyway," she whispered aloud, breaking the stagnant silence around her.

Pass 4 doorways on the right and 1 on the left, and open the automatic door into-

THE GARDEN

"Talk about being bigger on the inside."

Clara was still clutching her near-empty mug as she meandered into the garden, shoving her notebook and pen into the pocket of her dress.

The area before her was at least quadruple the size of the main console room, same shapes, all just, bigger. And outside. But still inside, apparently, Clara noted as she checked the smooth aluminium door impressed in a hedge behind her.

It was glorious weather too. Cloudless sky, radiant warmth from three old suns as the garden blossomed in life and colour.

There was even a topiary-come-fountain replica of the console, abundant with heavy, sweet smelling flowers that drowned out the taste of the coffee.

Clara left the cup on a pristine marble bench to pull off her jumper.

Not knowing what to anticipate, she had selected a comfortable outfit consisting of a simple dress, stockings, boots and a moss green knitted jumper.

Winter this year had been long and dreary, so the hair on her skin prickled as the sunlight embraced it.

A subtle breeze wrapped around Clara, her dress wafting while leaves of dried gossamer crackled quietly above the bench. Golden pears clung to the lower branches, parading temptingly close to Clara's face. Folding the jumper, Clara sat it beside the mug as her other hand plucked a pear to taste. She was taken off guard when the outer skin had a wafer-like texture, encasing the fruit like a fragile egg. Biting into the flesh, the wafer dissolved and the fruit fizzed in contact with her tongue, losing temperature to become a mouthful of delicious pear sorbet. Clara groaned with pleasure as the sorbet tickled her throat, and she tried to reason with herself the appropriate amount of pears to bring back with her.

Clara rubbed at her temple, wondering if the Doctor came here often. Leaning over to smell a rose, she figured somebody surely was tending to the plants, though she had never really imagined him as the gardening type.

 _He doesn't have the hands of a gardener. Or a doctor, really… Those slender fingers suit a pianist or a writer, maybe a scientist._

 _Well,_ she supposed, _if he could be a school caretaker…_ Clara smiled at the memory, and squinted at the fountain, which bubbled within the console shaped hedge.

Trying to snap herself out of her daydream, Clara shook her head slightly. The jettisoning water seemed out of focus, blurring into the blue sky, and the flowers were even more vibrant and pungent.

Clara rocked backward in place. She stuck her hands out around her, catching a nearby stalk of lavender when she was hit with wave after wave of nausea. Frantically searching for something to keep her upright, objects flattened and melded together like a Van Gogh painting.

She gurgled a plea for help before her knees gave way to hit the gravel.

Blinking rapidly as all the energy in her body seemed to disappear, Clara's arms dropped to the ground. All the vibrant colours of the garden drained from view as she collapsed, her heavy eyelids flickering shut.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE:

"It is not _cheating_ , it's just being practical!" the Doctor argued with an uncooperative TARDIS, waving his hands in exclamation.

He slapped the side of the main monitor and punched in new search parameters, as the TARDIS groaned around him. He'd already tried 'Clara', 'human', 'female', even 'Blackpool', but the TARDIS simply echoed the same four words: NO LIFE SIGNS DETECTED. Alarmingly, not even the sonic screwdriver could find a trace of Clara's DNA.

With yet another inconclusive result from the TARDIS, the Doctor hunched over the keyboard and stared at the yellow post-it note Clara had left for him.

He traced the words _COME FIND ME, DOCTOR_ with his index finger, and tapped at the note with quiet frustration.

The TARDIS was endless, and temperamental, which was never the most desirable combination. Two days could account for Clara being anywhere, and worse, waiting for him to come and find her.

Kneading his forehead, the Doctor tried to reason with the machine.

"Look, I don't even like games! What if she's incinerated herself, or got suck in a cupboard?"

The Doctor suddenly straightened out, and narrowed his eyes with thought.

"What if… She innocently decides to stroll into the wrong room, at the wrong time…"

He lowered his voice and leaned in toward the console, "…and pressed the wrong button, or pulled the wrong lever?"

The Doctor careened backward and gestured with a newfound confidence, "You, my dear, would be compromised! Wouldn't you want to save yourself?"

His smile was toothy and bittersweet as the engines hummed tentatively.

"Oh, come on. Just tell me," he was practically growling now, "Where is Clara Oswald?"

The tension finally broke a couple of seconds later when the monitor flickered in reluctant compliance.

Grainy, black and white footage showed Clara in a garden, eating a pear.

"Ahh." The growl softened to a husky purr.

"Clara, Clara, Clara," He muttered to the monitor.

"The Temporal Garden of Achatune. Alluring and deceptive. Spend a year in there and you'll walk out almost as old as me."

He tilted his head slightly, watching as Clara's eyes widened slowly in reaction to the pear. _A mere blink in that garden would equate to 10 minutes passing by, not even she truly knows how long she's been in there._

The Doctor sighed, but didn't dare move.

* * *

Using the sonic screwdriver, he had toyed with the monitor until the picture was crisp and colourful.

Gazing contentedly at the wrinkles cornering her eyes and the radiance of her skin, he was entranced by every second of Clara.

She was completely free of self-consciousness in the garden. Indulging in what would seem to her as a few moments of escapism, enjoying a genuine happiness that had probably been rare for her since P.E.'s death.

Not to say that the Doctor had been faring any better.

"Clara?"

The monitor clasped his attention again as Clara's face creased, and motioned gently from side to side in pain.

The Doctor slowly stood in a state of quiet panic, bringing his face to hover against the screen, and the electric glow bathed his already pallor skin. His big, glassy eyes studied Clara with concern as she began to fall to the ground.

Inhaling sharply, the Doctor whispered to the monitor,

"Clara Oswald. I am coming to find you."


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR:

"Wait… No, no…"

The words had begun tumbling out of Clara's mouth before she even realised she was mumbling. She was struggling sluggishly against a nightmare, tossing her head from side to side until the friction woke her with an electric tingle against her face.

Sliding a hand across her stomach to rest on the surface beneath her, Clara was relieved to find she was no longer strewn in a bed of gravel, but simply, a bed. She brushed the silken fabric, glad for a token of familiarity.

Her pupils took some time to adjust as Clara pried her eyelids open. Through the haze of diffused lights and shapes, she could vaguely make out the outlines of a bookshelf, and a telescope, possibly a candelabrum too. All this strewn in in a full hemisphere forged by a dome of tessellating glass planes that stretched to the perimeters of the room.

Yet it was simple enough to forget about the glass entirely, given the view. "Beautiful," she breathed, her eyes glazed over in awe, entirely transfixed by a purple-blue cloud smattered with millions of orange and white pinpricks of light.

If she thought it would be difficult enough to tear herself away from the cosmic spectacle, Clara could anticipate that regaining her balance would not come without a struggle. She propped herself upon her elbows and wiggled her toes, noticing her boots had already been removed.

When she had summoned the energy to slide forward a little, the soles of her stockinged feet padded the smooth, stone floor. Suspiciously, Clara leaned forward and prodded a cautious toe at what looked to be slate tiling, which responded with a little give and sprung back into place like a sponge. She frowned and edged backward before she spied a dark shape in the corner of her eye.

It was a pair of boots.

 _Her_ boots.

Neatly arranged on the ground beside her.

Finally, her memory fully clicked into function.

 _The garden._

 _The pear._

Immediately, she shivered and spun around on the bed. Her hair whipped her face as she changed direction, scanning the room carefully.

 _Where am I?_

 _Have I just been drugged?_

 _How did I get here?_

"Doctor?" Clara called out in hesitation.

"Doctor, if this is you, then it's not fair." Her voice was starting to wobble slightly. "And it's not funny."

She thrust her feet into her boots and stood up to scour the room more thoroughly.

"You can't just do this! It's not right and… and I am scared, Doctor."

Clara felt exasperated, and still a little nauseous as she spun around in search of her attacker.

Instead, she had been left alone with an obscure collection of old cupboards, desks, drawers and bookshelves, which lined the edge of the dome. They appeared to seal the room completely, the full circle motif continuing even to the bed she had woken upon, Clara recognised, which was an immaculate TARDIS blue disk, with a small mountain of cushions placed in the centre.

 _Could this be..?_

Not far from the bed stood the telescope Clara had glimpsed earlier. Unlike the rest of the room, it seemed warm and comforting. The telescope glowed gold from the sombre blues and greys that saturated the space, kept company by an ever so slightly worn, amber velvet chair and a small table with what appeared to be a forgotten glass of scotch.

 _This must be the Doctor's bedroom._

Suddenly, an intense light circled the floor, sweeping around the perimeter of the room.

"Doctor. Please." Clara whispered, squeezing her eyes shut and hoping that by some miracle, that man, that _idiot,_ would walk through a door any moment and lecture her on the human shortcomings in maturity.

Or he might rattle on about an overly elaborate plan he concocted days ago, where he hacked into her subconscious, knew about her intentions and programmed her to find the garden, but knocking her unconscious so she wouldn't try it again.

Willing for her _friend_ , she tried to calm herself.

 _Count to five, open your eyes, and everything will be fine…_

 _I'll bloody kill him,_

 _But we'll be laughing about it by Sunday dinner._

"One,"

Clara wasn't sure she'd managed to convince herself. She knew that for all the good the Doctor had created, he'd left a path of destruction.

"Two,"

 _He could be genuinely callous at times, and unaffected, as if emotion just happens around him._

"Three,"

Clara inhaled, and exhaled slowly.

"Four…"

 _You do this Doctor. You be there for me now. If I am anything to you, you will be there for me now._

"Five."

A heavy click permeated the silence.

The tension from Clara's face rippled with relief, as she opened her eyes and turned around to face the sound.

"Doct-"

She froze in place as mahogany wardrobe door swung open.

"-tor", Clara finished, deflated.

Attached to the inside face of the door, an all too familiar purple jacket hung limp, as an equally familiar bow tie was strung over the lapels.

Her head tilted autonomously as the memory of the Doctor swelled between her heartstrings.

It felt like such a long time since they'd first met, but she had hardly had the time to think of his past regeneration. Nostalgia didn't suit him, he just kept running and she knew that if she paused to look back, he wouldn't wait for her to catch up again.

She stroked the fabric gently, and recognised a couple of the shirts he had been wearing last week suspended from the inside railing.

 _So this is the Doctor's bedroom,_ her initial instincts had been confirmed.

She closed the wardrobe carefully, and pressed her forehead against the door, as a bell softly chimed above her. The wood of the wardrobe door dissolved there, against her skin, melting into a vertical pool of silvery, brushed steel.

Recoiling from the textural regeneration, Clara stepped backward as the steel split apart to reveal another, smaller room.

The wardrobe had transformed into an elevator.

Gladly, she immediately stole inside and sunk against the back wall, patting beside her unthinkingly for the elevator buttons. But the interior was impossibly flat and shiny, like a kind of upright marble grave. Clara hesitated when she caught her own reflection in the wall, not looking back at her, but pressing a button in the reflection. In reaction, the elevator doors silently slid shut as Clara's double pressed again and the elevator started lurched into movement. The real Clara glossed her fingertips over the surface where the reflected button should have been, but it was cold and smooth, identical to every other centimetre of the elevator walls.

The other Clara watched intently from the reflection, calmly leaning against the opposite wall and folding her arms together, crossing her ankles leisurely.

In reality, however, Clara Oswald ran her hands through her hair and paced the tiny amount of floor available.

Somehow, she had relinquished all control over her game of 'Hide and Seek', to herself.


End file.
